Star Ties
by sirensbane
Summary: During an inspection of a Ferengi ship, Captain Picard finds more than what he bargained for.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note** : **Reading this, some of you might be thinking to yourselves, "Another story? Stop beginning stories and taking forever to update them!" In my defense, I** ** _have_** **finished this story, and I will be updating every couple of days. It's actually quite old, but I've made a few changes to make the characterization more consistent. As always, reviews are very much appreciated!**

* * *

There was always a moment of disorientation as the sun released its hold and he awoke.

Scent was always the first to return. The sharp, acrid smell of metal, the nauseating stench of disinfectants. And of course, the blood, pumping through hundreds of veins. He stirred, the Hunger rising.

Touch next. The hard metal table, the bindings at his wrists. His hair, matted, probably with blood. His head ached.

Sight. Dimly, he could make out the round bulbous heads of a dozen or so bystanders, their eyes fixed on him intently. The white, sterile walls seemed to glow. He blinked and moaned at the light that jabbed into his skull. He shut his eyes tightly, trying to block out the sensation and pull himself more fully into consciousness.

And last, comprehension. His eyes shot open. The world spun for a moment, then jarred sharply into focus. His senses screamed as his brain caught up with them, and he felt panic rising uncontrollably.

 _Where am I?_

The bindings bit into his wrists as he struggled to sit, heedless of the pain. The spectators broke into a wave of chatter; they seemed nearly as frightened as he. After a moment, their language registered, and his eyes narrowed.

 _Ferengi. I_ hate _Ferengi._

He lunged up again, only to be pulled up short by the cuffs. The Ferengi around him jabbered again and leapt back. _They're afraid,_ he realized _. Good._

One of the little beasts approached, holding a prod, his sharp little teeth bared in a leer. The prisoner snarled. Unbidden, the Hunger rose.

He could remember little after that. Dark, confused flashes that seared through his head. The bindings snapped under the Hunger's rage; the little monster died. Screaming drilled into his skull. Light flared, as bright as the sun. His vision destroyed, he sank to the ground, snarling. More light, more pain. He could feel drowsiness seeping in again and struggled against it.

 _I cannot sleep. I must escape._

He wavered, the pull of the sun too strong. He could feel himself losing.

 _I have just awoken. There is no sunrise in space. Get up!_

His eyes closed; the Ferengi were gone. He heard a strange humming as darkness stole in again.


	2. Chapter 2

Captain Jean-Luc Picard sighed and struggled to keep a pleasant smile on his face.

"DaiMon Torek, this is not an unreasonable request."

The Ferengi's bulgy cheeks quivered with suppressed rage. His hands clenched into fists at his side. Picard watched with interest as he forced a toothy smile.

"Captain Picard, we meant no harm to you or to your ship," he said, extending his hands out in a placating gesture. "We were merely picking up some cargo in this sector. I assure you, our intentions are strictly honorable."

Picard ignored Commander Riker's derisive snort behind him and took a step closer to the view screen. He smiled a little wider, watching as the DaiMon began to look distinctly nervous.

"Then of course you wouldn't mind if we took a quick look at your cargo. I am interested to see what is so precious that it draws your vessel so far away from your own territory."

The Ferengi looked on the verge of having a fit. He was shuddering and his mouth was pursed in a thin line.

"Captain," he spat. "You have no right to detain us and certainly no right to board our vessel. We are passing peacefully through this sector; we have done you no harm."

"Detain you?" Picard asked. "Our inspection will be brief, just to ensure that you are in keeping with Federation regulations. You understand, of course."

With another tremendous effort, the DaiMon smiled again. "Of course, Captain Picard," he said through clenched teeth. "We await your arrival with pleasure. Torek out."

Picard closed the channel and leaned back in his chair. He wasn't sure why he had such an overwhelming curiosity to see what the Ferengi were hiding, but somehow he hadn't been able to resist the opportunity to make DaiMon Torek uncomfortable.

"Commander Data, Lieutenant Worf, you're with me. Commander Riker, you have the bridge."

"Captain," Riker protested, standing up. "I can't let you have all the fun."

"Stay here, Number One," Picard repeated with a smile. "It wouldn't do for us to intimidate the poor Ferengi _too_ much."

With obvious displeasure, Riker sank back into his seat. "As you wish Captain," he said. "We'll keep a lock on your energy signatures, just in case. I don't trust the Ferengi."

"Neither do I, Number One. Data, Worf." With his men flanking him, Picard swept from the bridge.

* * *

DaiMon Torek paced impatiently along the length of the transporter room. His second in command, a smooth-talking Ferengi named Olix, approached tentatively.

"Most Profitable DaiMon, we have hidden all evidence of the vampire's existence. The clumsy hu-mans will find nothing."

His only answer was a curt nod. Before Olix could continue, three columns of light materialized on the transporter pad. DaiMon Torek bared his teeth with displeasure. Captain Picard, looking as arrogant as ever, swaggered down the steps, flanked by two of his lackeys. Torek forced a smile onto his face.

"Welcome, Captain Picard. We are delighted to have you on board and are happy to accommodate the Federation's requests. Perhaps you are looking to buy?" The Ferengi's eyes widened innocently. "Or sell?"

Picard noticed DaiMon Torek's eyes fall on Data and sighed. _Ferengi never change_. "Where is this cargo of yours?"

As Torek turned and marched off down the hallway, Picard tapped Data's shoulder and whispered so quietly he knew only the android would hear.

"Stay close, Mr. Data."

The android nodded. "Yes sir."

Worf also stayed close, phaser drawn, as they made their way through a maze of corridors. There was no chance of getting lost; Data's memory was perfect, but Picard was beginning to wonder what temporary insanity had possessed him to come here.

 _Well you know what they say. Curiosity killed the cat._

To his surprise, DaiMon Torek stopped in the forward cargo bay. He gestured magnanimously at the piles of metal and barrels stacked all around.

"As you can see, Captain, our purpose in this system is perfectly legitimate, and we only wish to pursue a fair profit. Your suspicion is misplaced."

Data swept the tricorder over the barrels and glanced back at Picard. "Romulan ale, sir."

A luxury, but certainly not what Picard had expected. Not enough to make DaiMon Torek so nervous.

"A fair cargo…," he began, but Data interrupted.

"Captain." The android was staring intently at a nearby wall, his tricorder poised. "There is something behind this wall. There should be only hallway on the other side. But there is not."

"What are you hiding, DaiMon?" Picard asked sternly. Torek had paled visibly.

"Captain Picard, I really must protest this intrusion. You must know that Ferengi vessels have many hidden compartments. This one is empty. You have no reason to suspect me of wrongdoing."

As Captain Picard and Torek were talking. Worf ran his hands over the stretch of wall until his fingers caught on the hidden latch. He pressed it, and a secret compartment swung open. A small cell was partitioned off by forcefields in the far corner. Stretched upon the floor of the cell lay a body. A human body.

The young man lay motionless on the deck. His red-brown hair was about shoulder-length and matted with dried blood. Gore coated his ragged clothes and his face, deathly white, was drawn as though in pain.

"What is the meaning of this?" Picard asked menacingly, rounding on the Ferengi. Even Torek quailed a little under the captain's rage. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Worf stepped up behind his captain, looking thunderous, while Data watched with mild curiosity. Picard's fingers tightened compulsively at his side.

"What is the meaning of this?" he repeated slowly, his anger apparent in each word.

Torek's brain seemed to have shut down entirely. At last he found his voice.

"This isn't what it appears, Captain Picard."

"Trafficking in sentient life forms is a violation of Federation code 3522, DaiMon Torek," Picard snapped, "You will surrender your ship to us and accompany us to Starbase 439 where we will investigate this matter thoroughly."

Picard gestured towards Data. Immediately, the android walked over to a wall panel and pressed a few keys. The forcefield deactivated. Worf kept his phaser trained on the DaiMon.

"What are you doing? You cannot just march in here and confiscate my property!"

Picard's glare spoke volumes. "Your property?"

"Captain, he is alive." Data looked up from the prisoner's side. "I am getting some unusual life readings, however. We should return to the _Enterprise_." Picard turned.

DaiMon Torek flinched and pressed himself against the walls of the cargo hold. Moving slowly so as not to attract the Klingon's notice, he pressed a concealed button.

Picard tapped his comlink. "Picard to _Enterprise_. Four to beam up." He unpinned it and laid the comlink on the young man's chest. "Here is the fourth signal."

"You won't leave my ship!" DaiMon Torek snarled, grabbing for his phaser. Worf and Data were faster. Twin bursts of light impacted with the Ferengi's chest and the DaiMon collapsed to the floor.

"Energize!"

The instance Picard's boots struck the deck of the _Enterprise_ 's transporter room, he snatched up his comlink.

"Picard to bridge. Lock a tractor beam onto the Ferengi ship and prepare to tow it to Starbase 439."

Riker's voice responded, sounding strained. "Sir, the Ferengi ship just disappeared. We are unable to lock on."

"Disappeared?"

"Sir, it appears to be some sort of cloaking device."


	3. Chapter 3

A moan from the floor recaptured Picard's attention. The young man was stirring, though his face was still deathly pale. Picard tapped his comlink again.

"Picard to Crusher. Patient to beam directly to sickbay."

"Acknowledged."

The young man dissolved in a burst of light, and Picard released the breath he had unconsciously been holding. Worf and Data accompanied him as he headed for the turbolift. Halfway down the hallway, Worf finally spoke.

"The Ferengi should be severely punished for this blatant violation of Federation law. It is abominable and without honor!"

"The Ferengi show some considerable audacity in trafficking in sentient life forms," Data agreed. "However, this system would be inconvenient for a profitable slave trade. Therefore it follows that there is something unique about this particular individual."

"I agree, Mr. Data," Picard replied. "And I intend to get to the bottom of this."

Dr. Beverly Crusher studied her tricorder, then the patient before her. He looked so young and vulnerable, not much older than her son. She brushed a strand of red-brown hair out of his face tenderly. He stirred and his heart rate sped up almost imperceptibly. Beverly peered at the tricorder again.

"Strange."

"What's strange?"

Beverly looked up to see Captain Picard in the doorway.

"I'm not quite sure what he is, but he's certainly not human. His vital signs were almost non-existent when you beamed him in here, but I can't find any injury that would account for his current state."

"But what about the blood on his clothing?" Picard asked, gesturing at the man.

"Not his," Beverly replied. "I ran a few standard tests, and it appears to be Ferengi."

"Ferengi?" Picard stared at her. "Is it possible that he was a legitimate prisoner?"

Beverly sighed. "I don't know, but it is quite possible that it was in self-defense. And here's another thing that's unusual. He has the external appearance of a young human male. However, his internal structure is anything but normal. His heart and lungs are both functioning, but at one-third of human speed. And some of the other organs are inoperative. The bladder, the liver, the intestines, organs you shouldn't be able to live without."

"Something the Ferengi did to him?"

"I don't think so. They seem…rotten. That's the only word I can think of." Picard raised an eyebrow. "No human could survive that. Yet, I've never seen an alien species that so closely resembles a human."

"You'll have a chance to question him yourself; he's waking up."

Both leaned in closer and were instantly skewered by a pair of pitch-black eyes.

He woke. There was no time for fear, no time for pain. Just Hunger. The blood scent was nearly unbearable, and it jolted him into wakefulness. Faces swam into view above him. Human faces.

 _Human, not Ferengi._ That was enough for him to wrestle the Hunger back behind bars and draw a deep shuddering breath.

"Where…am I?"

The woman leaned in with a reassuring smile.

"You're safe. Don't worry; it's going to be all right."

"Where. Am. I?"

"You are aboard the Federation starship _Enterprise_ ," the man replied. "I am Captain Jean-Luc Picard. Dr. Crusher here will make sure you are given the medical care you require. Do you have a name?"

"Henry…Fitzroy," he croaked. He sat up slowly, ignoring the doctor's efforts to dissuade him. "A Federation starship?"

Picard nodded. "We are interested to know how you ended on a Ferengi vessel. But questions can be saved for later. Is there anything you require?"

Henry considered. Best to play it safe. It was starting to be a struggle to maintain his human appearance.

"Do you have a replicator? I'm a little hungry."

His request was so anti-climatic that Beverly Crusher had to suppress a smile. With her assistance, Henry rose a trifle unsteadily and followed her to the replicator. His voice was too low for her to make out, but a glass of viscous red liquid appeared and he gulped it down hungrily. Beverly was fascinated to see his eyes lighten from black to a very normal hazel, and the aura of power that seemed to surround him fade. His deathly skin became rosy as he refilled the glass with a low murmur and drank again.

At last, Henry returned the glass to the replicator and gazed levelly at the pair.

"So what happens now?"

"Now," Picard answered briskly, "as soon as Dr. Crusher finishes her examination, we will find you some quarters where you can rest and recover your strength. Questions can wait until later."

Henry's whole body tensed. "Thank you, Captain. I'd appreciate the chance to get cleaned up. As for another examination by Dr. Crusher, I am fine."

Something in his voice brooked no argument. Beverly struggled against the completely irrational urge to curtsy.

Picard was unmoved. "Just the same, I insist." For a moment, Beverly could practically see the contest of wills between the two, but Henry backed down first. He gave a graceful half-bow and a small smile.

"Very well, Captain. I will abide by your wishes."

"Good. I'll be on the bridge. Dr. Crusher, I will await your report."

Two hours later, Picard returned to sickbay. Henry sat on one of the examination tables, eyes locked on Beverly's face. At Picard's footsteps, he stood and smiled. "Captain, I'd like to thank you again for rescuing me. I don't like to think of what would have become of me at the hands of the Ferengi."

"I must admit, Mr. Fitzroy. I'm very curious to hear your story. We've never encountered any sentient life form that so nearly resembles a human, yet our scans show that several organs that would be vital in a human have been rendered inoperative."

Henry tensed. "I _am_ human, Captain," he said coldly, then faltered. The arrogant look cracked. "I was…subjected to… an experimental scientific procedure some time ago. But I was born human!"

He took a deep breath. Beverly laid a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Picard was appalled. "Did you volunteer for this procedure?"

Henry smiled bitterly. "I agreed to help with scientific research. When my body developed a resistance to the drugs, I was of no further use to them. I was left with gaps in my memory and some other side effects, as you've obviously discovered."

"Who did this to you?" Picard demanded.

Henry shook his head helplessly and Beverly took his arm.

"I want my patient to get some rest, Jean-Luc. You may ask your questions later."

As Henry shuffled towards the door at Beverly's side, he gently touched her hand and smiled up into her face.

"Thank you."

Beverly returned the smile, feeling suddenly like a nervous school girl. Her heart rate sped up and she forced her voice to remain steady. _That smile…_

"You're welcome."


	4. Chapter 4

As the doors slid shut behind him, Henry slid the floor of his quarters with relief. His lie had been accepted; he could see it in Picard's face. He tucked his knees to his chest and rested his chin upon them.

 _Well, what was I supposed to tell them? I'm a bloodsucking member of the undead with supernatural prowess…_ Here he grinned. _And by the way, I'm over eight hundred years old. So please don't drive a stake through my heart or expose me to sunlight. Yeah right._

 _I couldn't possibly tell the truth. Then why do I feel guilty for lying to Picard? Beverly will support me, I made dead sure of that, but I have no reason to trust the captain. Anyway, it was a starship captain who sold me to the Ferengi._

Henry remembered Captain Oneida's unctuous smile and shuddered. His head ached at the thought, though the bump had long since healed. Oneida had not been Federation, true, but Henry was resolved to take no more unnecessary chances.

Hoping to distract himself from this melancholy train of thought, he accessed the virtual library.

Suddenly, a shrill beep sounded, and Henry looked up, startled. It took a few minutes for the implications of the noise to sink in. He scrambled to his feet.

"Come in."

A pretty young woman with dark hair and darker eyes entered the room. Her heartbeat rang out in the enclosed space and Henry absorbed her scent automatically. _Not human, but close. And very pretty._ Her uniform was skintight, and he had to force his eyes to remain innocently on her face. He was male after all.

The woman smiled. "Hello, I am Deanna Troi, ship's counselor. Captain Picard asked me to talk with you and make sure you were settled comfortably."

Henry smiled. He listened with amusement as Deanna Troi's heart began to pound. Eight hundred years' worth of women had been struck dumb by that smile.

"I am honored by your concern, Deanna. Please convey my thanks to your captain and tell him that I am _quite_ comfortable." He took a step closer and heard her blood singing. He turned the smile into a shy, sweet grin. "I appreciate your company though. I've felt a little lonely since I got here."

Deanna felt her legs beginning to melt and forced herself to remain upright. _I've had too much experience to be taken in by just a smile,_ she chided herself. _I don't even know the man! Still…_

"Well if it makes you feel better, of course I'll come and visit you," she replied. His smile brightened and she felt an answering smile tug at her lips.

"You're so beautiful when you smile like that," Henry murmured. She blushed and tried to maintain a professional bearing.

"Well, if you want to talk to me about anything, about what happened, the computer can direct you to my office at any time."

"Thank you," he said. "I'd like that."

He couldn't help but notice the bounce in her step as she left the room.

* * *

Curiosity ran wild. News spread quickly of the incident with the Ferengi and the _unusual_ cargo they had been carrying. At last, to quell some of the speculation, Picard introduced Henry to the rest of his officers.

Riker nodded to the other man, a smile on his face. "Welcome to the Enterprise, Mr. Fitzroy."

Henry smiled as well. "Thank you, Commander. Your hospitality is truly extraordinary." His tone was gracious, but something in his manner was remarkably regal.

"Mr. Fitzroy, perhaps you could enlighten us," Data said. "How precisely did you end up on a Ferengi vessel? This sector is not well-traveled."

Henry hesitated for a moment. "I was traveling on a starship under the command of Captain Oneida." He grimaced. "A mercenary and small-time smuggler. The Ferengi came on board to discuss a specific cargo. I remember being hit from behind, then waking up in the Ferengi vessel. I don't know what they wanted with me. I'm certainly not important."

"This experimental procedure, what were the side effects you mentioned?" Data pressed.

"Other than occasional memory gaps and an altered physiology, nothing that I know of." Henry shrugged. "I think it was designed to treat those whose internal organs failed. If they perfected it and it saved lives, I guess a few side effects aren't much of a price to pay."

"I guess not," Geordi LaForge agreed. He too was beginning to like this stranger, and could certainly understand Deanna Troi's evident admiration.

"We will do whatever we can to make you feel welcome while we decide what to do with you," Picard said. "Perhaps someone can escort you to the holodeck, or to Ten Forward?"

"The holodeck please, Captain. I'm not much of a drinker."

"Very well." Picard's tone was brisk. "I'll have someone escort you…"

"I will escort him," Worf spoke up. "As head of security, it is my duty to accompany guests through the ship."

"Very well." Picard nodded briskly. "Mr. Fitzroy, if you will please go with Lieutenant Worf, he will show you the holodeck."

Henry nodded his thanks and cast a small smile at Deanna Troi and Beverly Crusher, seated side by side. Then he followed Worf from the room. Everyone exhaled.

"Wow," Geordi breathed.

"No kidding," Riker agreed. "I felt as if I should salute."

* * *

"This pad allows you to design your own program, which you may alter at any time," Worf explained. Henry was watching him intently. "A crew member will be able to provide assistance if you require it."

"What programs do you run, Mr. Worf?"

"I have designed a great number of programs," Worf said. "I use the holodeck primarily for bat'leth practice and other training exercises."

At this, Henry visibly brightened. "I have had some experience with a bat'leth. Perhaps you would care to spar with me, if you are not busy?"

"The captain will expect me back at the bridge…" Worf said, but Henry interrupted.

"You can use the opportunity to show me how to work the holodeck. Besides, I would relish the chance to test my skills against a Klingon."

"Then it would be an honor," Worf said. "Computer, play program Worf 1."

The holodeck doors slid open with a pneumatic hiss. Henry followed Worf inside, a small smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. The training room floor was covered in a thin white mat, while racks of weapons hung along the walls. The room was well-lit, but not uncomfortable, even to Henry's sensitive eyes. Worf picked up two bat'leths from a rack and handed one to Henry.

"Of course, I have my own bat'leth in my quarters. It has been in my family for ten generations." Worf shifted his grip on the weapon's haft into a more comfortable position. "But for now, we will use these blunted practice bat'leths."

Henry's grin was faintly mocking. "Afraid you'll hurt me, Worf?"

"I have not yet assessed the full measure of your skill," Worf replied, a little uncomfortable. "Until that time, it would be…unwise to handle fully-sharpened blades."

Henry snorted. "Ready then?" Worf noticed that he shifted quite comfortably into a fighting stance, hands gripping the bat'leth with an easy familiarity. Worf eyed his opponent carefully, taking his measure. Something told him this wasn't going to be an easy victory.

He stepped forward and swung, a short blow designed to test his opponent's defenses. Metal clashed with metal as Henry's bat'leth whipped up to block. _His reflexes are faster than an average human's_ , Worf thought.

Watching Worf's face, Henry suppressed a smile. _He would be angry to find out that I'm going easy on him._

From Worf's perspective, the fight was evenly-matched. Blow after blow rained upon uplifted steel. Attack, block, attack again. Henry's style was smooth and fluid; he clearly did not lack training. Worf could feel the strength behind his opponent's blade, and no matter how fast he moved, Henry matched it. Within minutes, both men were breathing heavily.

At last, Worf called a halt. "You are a capable warrior," he said, bowing to his opponent. "Where did you acquire such training?"

Without hesitation, Henry copied Worf's gesture. As he straightened up, he placed his bat'leth on the rack, stalling for time. _What should I tell him? The truth..._ he decided.

"I visited Q'onoS for a time," he said. Worf was surprised to hear the traditional pronunciation of the Klingon home world. "I searched high and low until I found a Klingon who was willing to instruct a human."

 _Actually,_ he mentally corrected, _he was only willing to instruct me because I_ wasn't _human. And because he was well paid for his trouble._

"That is most unusual," Worf said. "What was this instructor's name?"

Henry paused, already halfway to the holodeck doors. "Ba'el," he replied. _It feels odd to be telling the truth. Well, mostly._ "Thank you, Worf. I enjoyed our sparring session."

He was gone before Worf had a chance to formulate a reply. "Most remarkable," Worf muttered to himself as the doors hissed shut. He placed his bat'leth on the rack almost absentmindedly. "How could a human have visited the Klingon home world?"

Captain Picard's voice emanated from Worf's communicator, interrupting his thoughts.

"Lieutenant Worf, report to the bridge."

Worf tapped his communicator immediately, feeling slightly guilty. His absence had been longer than he intended.

"On my way, sir."

Shaking his head to clear it, Worf exited the holodeck.

* * *

Ten Forward was a lively place as usual that evening. Drinks and conversation were exchanged freely as the crew of the _Enterprise_ enjoyed their off-duty hours. From her place at the bar, Guinan could observe everything that occurred in her small domain. There was a hiss as the doors opened and a young man entered.

This man instantly attracted Guinan's attention. She didn't recognize him, which was unusual in itself, but he had a confident, alert demeanor that impressed her. Red-brown hair framed his face like a halo.

As he gracefully passed the bar, Guinan called out to him. "You're new here."

The young man paused, then came over to her. "My first night on the _Enterprise_."

"Then you must be Henry Fitzroy," Guinan said. "The captain told me about you. And you're the only thing the crew talks about. I'm surprised you haven't been mobbed already."

Henry grinned. "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage. You know my name, but I don't know yours."

"I'm Guinan," she said. "I run the bar and offer advice when it's needed."

"So I'm betting you know a lot about the crew by now," Henry said, leaning casually on the bar.

She raised an eyebrow. "Anyone in particular that you're interested in?"

He gave her an oh-so-innocent look. "Maybe."

Guinan didn't say anything, only raised the other eyebrow.

"Fine," he relented. "Maybe I am a little interested in Counselor Troi and Doctor Crusher." He smiled. "They caught my eye."

"Then I guess you should go over and talk to them," Guinan suggested. "They're right over there at that table."

As Henry pushed away from the bar and headed toward the pair, Guinan watched him with a mixture of worry and amusement. "I certainly hope that Counselor Troi and Doctor Crusher will be able to handle him. That boy's a player."

Troi and Crusher greeted Henry enthusiastically, and within moments, the three of them had started an animated conversation. Henry seemed perfectly capable of flirting with them both, even though he was considerably younger than either. As Guinan watched, Deanna giggled and tossed her hair back like a teenager. Beverly was more dignified, but her look of fascination was still apparent.

Guinan pursed her lips a little as Henry gazed over Beverly's head, directly at her, and flashed her a triumphant grin.

"Cute, but definitely not my type," she muttered, and went back to serving drinks. "Somehow he doesn't strike me as a one-woman sort of guy."

Several hours later, Henry trotted back to his quarters, his stomach growling. The scent of blood in Ten Forward had become intoxicating, and despite centuries of self-control, he was afraid that one more moment with Deanna and Beverly (it hadn't taken long to get to a first-name basis) would drive him half-mad with Hunger.

A crew member passed him in the corridor, and Henry was almost flattened by the burst of blood scent that assailed his nostrils. It smelled _good_. The Hunger roared for release and rattled the bars of its cage. Halfway down the hallway in pursuit, Henry brought himself to a trembling stop.

 _Why am I so Hungry? I drank the replicated blood earlier, and I haven't lost any._

He hesitated for several minutes, holding his breath as long as he dared. Then he all but sprinted to his quarters, careful to stay at a mildly human pace. Locking the door securely behind him, Henry flickered to the replicator. His head was spinning and his stomach was making enough noise to wake the dead. Figuratively speaking. His teeth were clenched together with such force that he was afraid that they'd crack under the pressure.

The glass appeared, filled to the brim with blood. He gulped it thirstily, then refilled it twice more. The Hunger barely faded. Henry kept drinking until his face was flushed with the blood and his senses were singing, but his stomach still growled and the Hunger still clamored for more.

Finally, Henry let the glass fall. He half-expected it to shatter on the floor, but it didn't. The little blood still left in it dripped on the carpet. He stared at it, sickened. One thought went through his head over and over:

 _The replicated blood doesn't work!_


	5. Chapter 5

Picard was thoroughly distracted. He sat in his ready room, trying to process some Starfleet records, but his thoughts kept coming back to Henry Fitzroy. An experimental procedure with the potential that Henry had mentioned would have been recorded with Starfleet, especially because humans rarely left Federation space. And such an abuse would have been investigated and punished.

Finally, he gave up trying to concentrate on his work. "Mr. Worf, get me a channel to Starfleet from my ready room."

"Yes sir."

After a moment, the communication screen on his desk beeped and Worf's voice filtered over Picard's communicator. "Channel open."

The screen resolved into a face, a brisk woman in her late thirties or forties with tightly pursed lips and a prim and proper bearing. However, her face softened when she saw Captain Picard.

"Jean-Luc. There must be something serious going on for you to contact us."

Picard started. "Admiral Nura. I didn't expect someone of your rank to answer my hail."

The Admiral leaned forward slightly. "When the captain of the Federation flagship contacts us, we tend to assume the worst."

"I'm afraid we have a situation, Admiral," Picard replied. "We detained a Ferengi ship that was traveling in the Retari sector."

"The Retari sector? That's sparsely populated and out of the way for the Ferengi," the Admiral said.

"That's not the worst of it," Picard said grimly. "They were carrying a human prisoner. As _cargo_. We beamed him onboard the _Enterprise_ and attempted to attach a tractor beam to the Ferengi ship, but it disappeared."

Admiral Nura looked shocked. "Disappeared?"

Picard nodded. "My first officer believes that it was some form of cloaking device."

Admiral Nura sighed. "The Ferengi acquiring cloaks. What next?" She shook her head. "And the captive?"

Picard shifted uncomfortably. "He says his name is Henry Fitzroy. And that's the second part of why I contacted you. Our chief medical officer determined that many of his vital organs were nonfunctional, but he appears healthy. He claims that it is due to scientific experimentation designed to sustain people whose vital organs failed. Has the Federation commissioned such research?"

Admiral Nura shook her head. "I haven't heard about it." She frowned. "Keep an eye on this Henry Fitzroy. I'll poke around and see what I can find out."

"Acknowledged," Picard said. "I will pursue my own line of investigation here."

"Jean-Luc, if you encounter the Ferengi ship again, your orders are to attempt to disable it and tow it to the nearest starbase. They are in clear violation of interstellar law."

She reached forward and closed the channel. Picard sat back in his chair, thinking. _There is more to Henry Fitzroy than meets the eye._ After a moment, he stood up, adjusted his uniform, and emerged onto the bridge. _I'll talk to Guinan and get her impression of the man._ His face creased in a wide grin. _After all, there's nothing I like more than a good mystery._

* * *

Behind the closed doors of her quarters, Ensign Emma Tirell was getting distracted. The form of this distraction was a young man with shoulder-length reddish-brown hair and hazel eyes. She giggled as he dumped her on her bed and dropped down beside her. He kissed her, his lips devouring hers hungrily. She leaned into his touch with a soft moan. In the next few minutes, Emma Tirell got so distracted that she failed to notice the pain of the bite as the vampire drank his fill. She woke up alone, feeling warm and drowsy, but remembering nothing.

"Henry!"

Henry turned away from Ensign Tirell's door in the direction of the voice and saw Beverly Crusher hurrying toward him down the hall. The doctor greeted him with a warm smile, which he returned.

"I've been looking for you. The captain wants me to run a few more tests, just to make sure that your captivity had no ill effect on you."

"And to validate my story," Henry said with a grimace. He was beginning to grow tired of the captain's distrust.

Beverly nodded, looking slightly abashed. "That too. But you have to admit that your story has some gaps."

Henry had had enough. **"You have already performed the tests, Beverly,"** he said, looking deeply into her eyes and letting the vampire rise to the surface. She struggled for a moment, but Henry's power could not be gainsaid. **"I am telling the truth. You have verified that I am human, with a few genetic modifications. You will now enter the results into the ship's computer."** The blackness faded and his eyes resumed their normal hazel. She shuddered and blinked at him, confused.

"Well, I should go," she said. "I need to enter the test results into the ship's computer. Looks like you were telling the truth."

Henry favored her with his most charming smile. "Did you ever doubt me?" he teased.

She smiled back. "Not for a moment."

Henry watched her disappear down the hallway with a gnawing feeling of frustration. Picard's suspicions could not be ignored forever; Henry had learned years ago that a seed once planted grows quickly. Now, however, he could feel the vampire within struggling to break free, feeding on his anger.

 _I need to be busy,_ he thought. _Do_ something _. Anything._

He discarded several places instantly; his control was not perfect and hundreds of heartbeats beating together would prove an inestimable distraction. In desperation, he sought sanctuary in the one place where he could stop worrying and pretending to be human: the holodeck.

* * *

Henry Fitzroy materialized outside the holodeck's doors, and Lieutenant Worf bit back a gasp. _No human moves that fast._ The man pressed a few keys and the doors slid open. He vanished inside, just as quickly.

Worf waited for ten minutes, then cautiously approached the doors, hand automatically reaching for his phaser. He pressed the same controls, but the holodeck doors remained locked.

"Computer, open doors."

"Security override required"

Worf hesitated. Just for a moment. "Security code 94832Delta212."

The doors hissed open, and Worf strode inside. He was standing in the training room that he had shown to Henry earlier. Henry Fitzroy stood in the middle of the room, the bat'leth a wheel of spinning metal in his hands. The man was moving so fast, it was difficult to track the blade as he lunged, thrust and parried with an invisible opponent. His eyes were black and as he smiled, Worf thought he saw a hint of fangs.

All this Worf glimpsed in a second, for he had scarcely set foot inside the door when Henry turned to him, the bat'leth falling still. His eyes were an ordinary hazel, his teeth normal human size.

"Worf, what are you doing here?" Was it Worf's imagination, or was had the other man tensed? Henry smiled in a friendly way. "Did you want another rematch?"

Worf hesitated. He couldn't explain what he'd seen, and in the face of Henry's very normal smile, he was starting to doubt his own eyes. _I've never seen things that weren't there,_ he told himself firmly. _He isn't human. He lied to us._

He realized that Henry was still waiting for an answer. "I wanted to use the holodeck," he said stiffly. He had never been comfortable with lying, but nor did he want to confront Henry with what he had seen. "I was preoccupied and did not notice that this deck was in use. I apologize."

Henry nodded gravely. _I can't make him forget what he's seen, if he saw anything. He's a Klingon._ His hands gripped the leather handle of the bat'leth more tightly. _I could cut him down before he reached the door. But someone would notice his absence…_ "I can certainly understand that. I believe that Holodeck Four is empty, if you still want to use one."

"Thank you," Worf said, turning to go, half-expecting a bat'leth blade to sink between his shoulder blades. Something in Henry's eyes… But nothing happened, and the doors hissed shut behind him.

Henry replaced his bat'leth carefully on a rack, glancing towards the door warily. He had a sick feeling in his stomach. _I'm sure I locked the holodeck doors…_

Half a ship away, Captain Jean-Luc Picard was assaulted by a nearly visible wave of sound as he stepped through the sliding doors into Ten Forward. Most of the off-duty crew was here, drinking, laughing, and talking.

All of which abruptly stopped when Picard entered the room. Every eye turned to him.

Picard gestured awkwardly. "Go back to your drinks."

As he walked up to the bar, Guinan greeted him with a warm smile.

"Captain Picard," she said. "What brings you here?"

"I wanted to ask you about Henry Fitzroy," Picard said, sitting down at the bar. "I decided to do a little detecting."

She raised an eyebrow. "Aren't detectives supposed to be inconspicuous?" she asked, gesturing at the still subdued Ten Forward.

Picard made a face. "I can't help it that I'm the captain. But I really want to know what you thought of Henry. He was in here earlier, wasn't he?"

Guinan nodded slowly. "He was, but I don't know exactly what you want me to tell you. He came in, spent the evening talking with Counselor Troi and Doctor Crusher at that table over there." She pointed.

Picard leaned forward, resting his forearms on the bar. "But what did you _think_ of him? What does your _intuition_ tell you?"

She sighed. "I think he's a player. He's certainly charming at any rate. He's confident, but so are all handsome young men. He turns heads."

"You don't have anything else you can tell me?" Picard asked, discouraged. Interesting as this was, it didn't put him any closer to learning more about Fitzroy's past.

Guinan hesitated for a moment. "One other thing. Call it intuition. Henry has…a presence. I don't know how else to describe it. He has the air of someone who's seen a great deal, a great deal more than he should have. He looked at me, and I felt like I was looking at someone incredibly ancient. Then he smiled, and he was a young man again." She shrugged. "But it's just a feeling."

"Thank you, Guinan," Picard said, standing up, deep in thought. He turned to go.

"Picard," Guinan called. He stopped and looked back. "What I sensed…it was power. And it's strong."

He nodded and left Ten Forward. Guinan's words had confirmed his suspicions. Henry was not human. He let out a frustrated sigh. _Why is he so desperate to pretend otherwise?_

Henry lay on the bed in his quarters. His eyes were closed, but his entire body trembled. His stomach hurt. He was frightened, and that in itself was a sobering thought. For eight hundred years, he had kept his secret, revealing it only to a very few. Others had discovered it, but rarely had he come to harm. He had simply silenced them. Memories could be rewritten, or the person could simply disappear. A simple solution, and because of it, Henry had survived. Centuries after family and friends were dust and ashes, he still lived on.

But now was different. Not all memories could be rewritten. Klingons were not susceptible to Henry's powers, and strong-willed men like Picard would be likewise unaffected. And deaths would be noticed. An investigation would find him out. Henry had many abilities, but he could not pilot a Federation starship of this size alone.

And he could not run. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. Not when a simple scan would locate him. Here there was no planet to run to, no teeming city to mask his movements. He didn't even know where here _was._

He was caught like an animal in a trap. He could not feed from the replicators, which meant he had to use the crew. And that couldn't go on forever. Bite marks healed fast, but not immediately.

He sighed and sat up, gripping his head in his hands. He could not fight, he could not run. All that was left was to continue to play this charade and hope…

A thought occurred to him. _I could tell Picard the truth_. _He might accept me, especially if I could convince him that I mean no harm to him or his crew. Non-humans have achieved a remarkable amount of tolerance in this century…_

He shook his head violently and slammed his fist on the covers. _But not vampires. Picard will not allow a creature who feeds off the blood of living things to remain on his ship. I have killed before, and I will kill again. I can't say that I pose no danger to his crew. And I doubt that Picard is_ that _open-minded. He won't thank me for lying to him._

 _And Oneida…_ Henry shuddered. _He found out what I was. And he sold me to the Ferengi. Picard is not the same, but my kind has never, and will never, gain acceptance._

He could feel sleep tugging on his consciousness. In space, there was no sunrise to dictate his waking hours, but he still needed rest. And during that time, he would be vulnerable. Utterly helpless.

 _I hate this,_ he thought fiercely, as he padded to his door and locked it, even though that would not keep out a determined officer. _The killing and the hiding, the endless lies…I'm so tired. So tired._

 _But I don't want to die._

And with that thought in his mind, he wormed his way under the bed, leaving the top immaculate. He made sure he was invisible from the room at large, then allowed sleep to come. Just as he was drifting off, another thought struck him.

 _There is no sunrise in space. Then how did the Ferengi…_

Oblivion.


	6. Chapter 6

Geordi LaForge tapped his foot impatiently, glancing at the timepiece on his console in consternation. Data looked up after a moment, his head cocked.

"Geordi, is something wrong?"

The android's voice was carefully modulated into a tone of concern, but Geordi knew there was no true emotion behind it. Still, he appreciated the effort.

"Emma Tirell was supposed to report for duty at 0800 hours, and she hasn't shown up yet. I need somebody to check the warp core."

"If you require someone to help you, I can assist," Data offered.

"No, that's alright, Data," Geordi sighed. "I'm just angry that she didn't show."

The android turned in his seat. "Computer, locate Ensign Emma Tirell," Data said.

"Ensign Emma Tirell is on route to sickbay."

"Sickbay?" Geordi said. "I wonder what's wrong. Well, I guess I'll check the warp cores myself. Meanwhile, Data, continue testing our sensory arrays. I want to be able to pick up on the Ferengi's cloak if we meet up with them again."

Data nodded and bent back over his console. Geordi began to run scans on the warp core containment field, putting the problem of Emma Tirell out of his mind.

* * *

"So what seems to be the problem?" Beverley Crusher asked. She picked up a medical tricorder and motioned for Emma Tirell to sit down on the examining table.

"I don't know." Emma obligingly sat down, brushing a strand of blond hair out of her face. She was a very pretty woman, Beverley reflected, with green eyes and a figure that made men drool. Tasteful touches of makeup accentuated her petite face, and her smile was filled with perfectly straight, white teeth. "I woke up this morning feeling a little dizzy. And I could barely roll myself out of bed."

"Sounds like the flu," Dr. Crusher said, shining a light in Emma's eyes and passing the tricorder up and down her body. "But we'll take a look."

Ensign Tirell sat still while Beverley scanned her. Suddenly, Beverley frowned.

"Did you do any sort of strenuous activity last night?" she asked.

Emma shook her head. "I got off duty, had a few drinks in Ten Forward, then went back to my quarters to read."

Beverley pressed another few buttons on the tricorder. "Have you cut yourself recently?"

"Not that I know of," Emma said, sounding perplexed. "Why?"

"Your fibrinogen levels are a bit high." Beverley noticed the confused expression on Emma's face. "It helps with the clotting process. This reading would be normal in someone who has suffered a cut or puncture. Let me test your red blood cell count."

"Yes," she said a few moments later, "it's surprisingly low. Well, blood loss would certainly account for dizziness and exhaustion."

Emma Tirell frowned. "But I've had cuts before and never had symptoms like this."

"You would have to lose a considerable amount of blood for you to notice it," Beverley said. "So you must have cut yourself on something."

"I think I would have noticed."

Beverley was about to utter a retort when she caught a glimpse of something half concealed by Ensign Tirell's hair. Reaching out, she twitched it aside. On Emma's throat was a pair of half-healed puncture marks. They were very faint, but still recognizable.

"Where did you get these?" she asked, holding up a small mirror so that Emma could look at the marks. Emma's hand went up to her neck, and her trembling fingers sketched over the punctures.

"I…don't know," she said.

Beverley leaned in closer. "It looks like something bit you," she said, her voice kept deliberately calm. "The marks look recent. Do you have a pet of some kind?"

Emma Tirell shook her head. "I have allergies."

"And you don't remember anything happening?" Beverley asked.

Wordlessly, Emma shook her head again.

"Go back to your quarters and rest," Beverley said, closing the lid of the tricorder with a snap. "I'll go talk to Captain Picard about this."

"But I'm supposed to be in Engineering," Emma protested. "I was supposed to help Mr. Laforge check the warp core this morning."

"I'll explain to Mr. Laforge what happened. He'll just have to do without you. Doctor's orders."

"And what _did_ happen?" Ensign Tirell asked, sliding off the examination table. Her green eyes were wide.

"I don't know," Beverley confessed. "But I'll find out."

* * *

Worf hesitated outside Henry Fitzroy's door, his finger poised over the controls. Slowly, unwillingly, he pressed a button. A chime sounded within, but there were no answering footsteps, and no voice called out to him. Worf pushed the button again. Still no answer. Quickly, he punched in the security code, and the door slid open. Feeling like a thief, and not liking the feeling, Worf entered the room.

It was empty. The bed was neatly made, and the room was almost unnaturally tidy. A pile of newly replicated clothes was stacked on top of a chair, and a console linked to the virtual library lay on the bed. There were no personal belongings to be seen. Understandable, given that Henry had been released from a prison only a few days before, but it still made Worf uneasy. In his experience, humans liked to personalize their rooms. This room reminded him of Data's quarters. Stark, empty, and unused.

A quick search told him that there was nothing to be found here. He had just begun to kneel down to look under the bed (humans often kept odd things stowed there), when his comlink buzzed and Picard's voice filled the room.

"Lieutenant Worf, please report to my ready room."

"Yes sir." Worf straightened, and with a last backward look, left Henry's quarters.

Henry awoke slowly. He had attempted for eight hundred years to shorten that helpless period of semi-consciousness, but his efforts were having no noticeable effect. He inhaled deeply in an attempt to become more alert, and sneezed. The amount of dust under the bed was rather extraordinary.

Cursing, he rolled out from under the bed and brushed himself off. Sharp eyes scanned his quarters. There was no noticeable disturbance. And yet…

He took a deep breath. This time, unhindered by dust balls, he caught the strong, pungent scent of Klingon. Henry cursed again, this time in three or four languages. _Worf has been here._ His eyes turned black, his fangs slid out with a satisfying _click_ , and he started towards the door. Then with a monumental effort, he regained control of himself.

The feeling of helplessness intensified. _I have no choice. I have to tell the captain._ He winced. _But first I have to feed._ He dressed quickly, and disappeared in the direction of Ten Forward.

* * *

Picard sat up a little straighter in his chair. "Bitten, you say?"

Beverley Crusher nodded. "She had puncture wounds on her neck. She claims that she doesn't keep any animals, but I don't know what else it could be."

The bell outside Picard's ready room chimed.

"Come."

Lieutenant Worf entered the room slowly. "You sent for me, Captain?"

Picard nodded. "I did. Please, Beverley, stay," he added, as she started to leave. "I wish to know what you think of Henry Fitzroy. Other than Dr. Crusher here, you have had the most contact with him of anyone aboard this ship."

Worf stiffened. "That is what I wanted to discuss with you, Captain. I am beginning to feel that Henry Fitzroy is…not what he appears."

"Do you have specifics?"

Worf frowned. "I interrupted him during a training exercise in the holodeck. He was moving much faster than normal human capacity."

Beverley Crusher looked intrigued. "How fast?"

"Fast enough that I could hardly see the blade. And his eyes were black, I am sure of it."

Picard nodded again. "I think it's clear that Mr. Fitzroy is not quite as human as he claims. The question is: why is he so desperate to hide it?"

"One more thing, sir," Worf said. "Just before I interrupted him, I thought I saw…fangs. A double pair of canines."

Beverley started. "A double pair. Are you sure?"

Worf turned to look at her. "I am not… certain. But I pride myself on my powers of observation."

Beverley stepped forward. "Captain, the puncture marks on Ensign Tirell's neck had a strange pattern. A double pair of canines _could_ account for such an irregularity."

Picard looked skeptical. "Are you saying that Mr. Fitzroy _bit_ her?"

"I say that we put him in a holding cell until we have investigated this thoroughly," Worf said. "The weight of evidence is against him."

"What you say is largely supposition, Mr. Worf. I am loathe to arrest a man on this evidence alone."

Beverley frowned. "The results of my second round of tests said that he _was_ human, with genetic modifications. He told us about those."

"He told us that he had an altered physiology and memory gaps, Doctor," Worf retorted. "This goes far beyond that."

"Dr. Crusher," Picard said, and by his tone, Beverley knew he wanted nothing more than facts. "I know that you are friendly with Henry, but if he may prove a threat to my crew, I must take action. Now, was there anything else unusual about Emma Tirell's case?"

"Her blood levels were a bit low," Beverley said reluctantly. Each word felt as though it had to wade through quicksand in order to leave her lips. "And her fibrinogen levels indicated recent clotting."

Picard raised an eyebrow. "Are you telling me that Henry Fitzroy is some kind of…vampire?"

"We won't know unless we question him," Worf said. "May I have your permission to detain him?"

Picard sighed reluctantly. "Dispatch a security team, Mr. Worf. Use force only if he resists." He leaned forward. "Computer, locate Henry Fitzroy."

"Henry Fitzroy is in Ten Forward."

Picard groaned. "The most conspicuous place on the ship." He tapped his comlink. "Picard to Commander Data."

"Yes sir."

"Meet us in Ten Forward immediately."

"Yes sir."

Worf frowned. " _Us_ , sir?"

Picard nodded and rose. "I have a few questions of my own to put to Mr. Fitzroy." He made sure a phaser was securely tucked into his belt, then headed for the door. Worf followed.

Beverley tailed along. It was the least she could do.

* * *

Deanna Troi leaned forward and gazed across the table at Henry Fitzroy. He looked sad and slightly distracted. His glass of synthowine was untouched. Tentatively, she laid her hand over his. His emotions were in turmoil, but she could grasp nothing definite.

"Henry, what's wrong?"

He started, and then forced a smile. "I'm sorry. I didn't invite you for drinks in order to brood about my problems."

She smiled soothingly. "If it would help to talk about it…"

"Always a ship's counselor, Deanna?"

"Not right now. Now I'm just a friend who wants to lend some support."

His smile this time was genuine. "You consider me a friend?"

"Of course," she said, startled. "And I want to help you…if I can."

He shook his head like a dog shaking off water. "It's nothing." He leaned forward, and delivered one of his charming smiles. Deanna felt her knees beginning to shake under the table. Her annoyance at the abrupt dismissal vanished.

"Tell me," he said. "Why did you decide to become a counselor?"

"Well, I suppose part of it was because I like to help people talk about their feelings," she said. She grinned ruefully. "And part of it was because I wanted to escape my mother."

He smiled. "I can sympathize. I spent my entire childhood wanting to escape from my father. He kept wanting to marry me off."

Deanna laughed. "Same with mine."

Henry laughed as well. "Parents."

His laugh was musical, and Deanna felt herself responding to the sound. He was so handsome and funny and sweet. She found herself imagining what it would be like to nestle in his arms and feel his breath stirring her hair.

His hand clasped hers. "Deanna…"

The doors of Ten Forward hissed open. Deanna looked up to see a full security team, flanked by Data, Picard, and Beverley Crusher, enter the room. The crew fell silent. The team advanced across the room until they stood beside her table.

"Henry Fitzroy, we would like to have a word with you. Please come with us," Worf said gruffly. His hand, Deanna saw, hovered near his phaser.

"What is the meaning of this?" Henry demanded, straightening in his chair. His hand clenched compulsively on Deanna's own.

"Counselor Troi, if you would be so good as to step away," a voice said quietly. Deanna started. It was the captain. Obediently, she made to stand up. And found that she could not free her hand.

"We have evidence that you have injured one of my crew," Picard said to Henry. "I would like to ask you a few questions."

"This is a poor place for a confrontation," Henry said. His voice cooled considerably and his face was a mask.

"There is no need for a confrontation," Data said. "This can be done quietly."

"I truly doubt it." Then Henry moved. In an instant, he released Deanna's hand and bounded _over_ the first row of security officers. He moved so fast that the team had no time to even pull their phasers from their sheathes. Worf roared in pain and surprise as Henry drove a fist into his stomach and then spun him around, simultaneously twisting his arm behind his back. The Klingon struggled, but Henry's grip was like iron. After only a moment, Worf fell still.

The rest of the team had their phasers out, but there was nothing they could target; Henry's body was effectively shielded by his captive. Henry stared at them, his black eyes gleaming. When he spoke, Picard could see a glimpse of double fangs.

"I'm afraid we've sparked a _confrontation,_ " he whispered. "In front of all these people too."

One of the patrons stealthily began to draw a phaser from his belt. Henry's head turned; his eyes caught the man's and held them.

 **"** **Stop."** The man froze, unable to move. Henry's head rotated back to face Picard.

"So what now, Captain?" Picard tensed.

Suddenly, Beverley Crusher rushed forward. "Henry, stop!" His black gaze shifted to her. She continued. "Please, Henry, we won't hurt you; we just want to ask you some questions."

"Ask them with phasers?" he asked contemptuously.

"I know you don't mean us any harm, Henry," Deanna said. She knew nothing of the sort, but the memory of Henry's carefree laugh was still ringing in her ears, and despite his actions, she wanted to believe her own words. "Please, let him go."

Henry gazed at her in silence for a moment. No one dared breathe.

Deanna's plea struck a chord in Henry. He remembered a time, four hundred years before, when another woman had begged for another's life, and he had heeded her out of love. Vicki Nelson was long since dust and ashes, but her memory was still as strong and vibrant as though she stood beside him. He imagined her blond hair, her green eyes, her determined frown. And her words: _"You're stronger than this."_

He bowed his head, his eyes closed for a brief moment. Then slowly, he released Worf and stepped back.

"Very well, Picard," he said, his voice barely audible. "I will come quietly."


	7. Chapter 7

Worf shoved Henry roughly into the turbolift, keeping his phaser trained on the young man. Data and Picard followed. The android also carried a phaser, and he was worth more than any security team. Henry glanced at Worf.

"If I wanted to escape, I could have done so already," he said softly. "I said I'd come quietly, and Henry Fitzroy is a man of his word."

"Why should I trust you?" Worf demanded. He did not relax his stance. "You assaulted a security team."

Henry shook his head. "Why so belligerent, Worf?" He considered the Klingon, hazel eyes bitter. "Is it because I'm not human? That's hypocritical." Worf tensed in anger.

"So you admit that you lied to us about your species?" he demanded.

"Enough," Picard said. "Mr. Fitzroy, Mr. Worf is doing his duty."

Henry's piercing gaze shifted to the captain, but he said nothing more.

The turbolift doors opened onto the brig level. Worf motioned Henry forward into one of the empty cells. Keeping his phaser trained at Henry's back, he punched a few numbers on the keypad outside the door. A forcefield shimmered into place, locking Henry in. Henry turned slowly and stood staring at the tiny group. He held unnaturally still, eyes not leaving Picard's face. Then without a word, he sank to the floor and rested his head against the bulkheads, gazing up at the ceiling. Picard was struck by the sadness in the other man's face, the world-weariness, the dull resignation.

"Mr. Data, Mr. Worf, thank you for your services," he said. "I would like to talk to Mr. Fitzroy alone."

"But captain…" Worf began, but Picard cut him off with a sharp look. "Yes sir."

He and Data retreated, and Picard was left alone. Henry did not move. Picard stood staring down at the other man.

"Why lie?" he asked at last. " _The Enterprise_ 's mission is to seek out new life and to explore new civilizations. Were you so afraid that we would not accept you if we knew you were not human?"

Henry snorted. "My kind is always the exception to the rule. Humans will never accept us."

"What are you?"

Henry turned his head to look at the captain. "Do you still need to ask?"

"I want to hear it from your own lips."

"I'm a vampire." Even delivered tonelessly, the words fell like hammers in the quiet room.

"Why does Starfleet have no record of your existence?" Picard asked, sitting down against the bulkhead beside the forcefield. He was fascinated by Henry's blunt admission.

Henry laughed. "See, you're already different than every other human I've met," he said. "Usually the first thing out of their mouths when I say that is: 'There's no such thing as vampires.' You ask me why you haven't heard of my kind before." He chuckled again, a human sound. "And you do have records of my kind. Bram Stoker, Anne Rice, Tanya Huff. All historians. Mind you, they got much of their information _wrong_ , but some of it is based loosely on fact."

"How old are you?" Picard asked, leaning forward.

"Eight hundred, give or take a decade or two."

Picard reeled back. " _Eight_ hundred?"

"I use great moisturizer," Henry said with a small smile. Seeing Picard's blank look, he sighed. "Never mind."

"Eight hundred years," Picard murmured. "Where were you born?"

"England," Henry replied. He looked slightly amused.

Picard did some quick mental calculations. "You must have been alive during the reign of King Henry VIII!"

Henry laughed. "He was my father."

He could have said that he was a purple flying unicorn, and it would have seemed just as believable. With all of Henry's abilities, a magical explanation, no matter how strange, would not have seemed impossible. But this…

"Your father?" Picard gasped.

"Yes."

"You're… Henry, Duke of Richmond." Picard's brain was still struggling to come to grips with this revelation. Instantly, he began to catalog all the information he had ever learned about Henry the VIII.

"I'm impressed, Captain," Henry said with a smile. "So few people still remember my father, let alone his bastard son. In all these years, I've never bothered to change my name."

"Fitzroy," Picard mused. "Latin."

"It translates as 'baseborn child of the king'." Henry's voice became softer. "When I died, there was an act going through Parliament to legitimize me, but…I think I got the better deal. I even got his sword."

Picard leaned forward. "You have the _sword_ of Henry the VIII?"

Henry nodded. "At least, I did…until the Ferengi captured me. Captain Oneida probably has it now." He laughed bitterly. "The fool probably has no idea what it is. I doubt he'd care."

At the name, Picard straightened up. "Why were you traveling with Captain Oneida?"

Henry shrugged. "I wanted to explore. I wanted to see other races, to see other cultures and other histories being written. Even in a hundred thousand years, I would not be able to see the entire universe." He smiled. "I'm immortal, but that doesn't mean I have time to waste." His smile faded. "I didn't have a specific destination in mind. Captain Oneida was convenient."

"Passenger ships keep careful track of the passengers, don't they?" Picard pressed. "If one of them were injured, it would be difficult to hide. But if a smuggler disappeared…"

Henry sat up. His eyes glowed and for a moment, Picard could feel a terrible swell of power behind that gaze. "I don't kill people, Captain Picard. My bite is often pleasurable; the…subject does not remember. I am **not** a murderer."

His last words were delivered with such passion that Picard wanted to believe him. But doubts still plagued him. "Why drink from humans at all?" he asked. "You drank replicated blood when you first woke up. Why did you attack my crew?"

A spasm of pain flitted across Henry's face. "Replicated blood…there's something wrong. It doesn't satisfy the Hunger."

Picard caught the capital letter. "Why?"

Henry shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. I have never been forced to rely upon it before."

"In your travels, surely you must have…"

Henry cut him off. "No Picard, I have not. I have always found willing donors, or hunted in a city where it would go unnoticed. Now here I am, on a Federation ship, where every person is monitored and every injury investigated."

"Why choose Ensign Tirell?" Picard asked. "Surely it would be easier to choose one of the passengers, someone who does not have to report for duty."

Henry stared at him icily. "Like one of the children, Picard? No, Emma was the best choice. She's young, single, and easily charmed."

"And Deanna Troi?" Picard said. "Hardly an intelligent selection for someone wishing to remain undercover."

"You assume I want to feed on everyone I socialize with, Captain. I enjoy Deanna's company."

"Somehow I doubt that's all you had in mind."

Henry's eyes flashed again. "I'm tired of your suspicion, Picard. I've answered enough questions." He turned away, his shoulders set.

"For today," Picard said, rising to his feet. "But you have a lot to answer for, Mr. Fitzroy. And I wish to know more about your kind." He turned to go.

As the turbolift doors opened with a soft hiss, he heard Henry's voice from behind him.

"Curiosity killed the cat, Captain Picard."

Picard paused, a small smile on his face. "That may be so, but satisfaction brought it back."

He heard the vampire chuckle as the turbolift doors shut behind him.


	8. Chapter 8

"A vampire?" Riker's voice was dubious. "You've got to be kidding me."

"That would explain the bite marks on Ensign Tirell," Beverley Crusher admitted reluctantly. Even now, with Henry Fitzroy captive in the brig, something in her did not want to believe he was responsible for the attack.

"I am…not familiar with vampires," Worf said slowly.

"In the traditional legend, a vampire is an undead creature that supposedly survives on a diet of human blood," Data replied promptly. "They are immortal and possess supernatural strength and speed, as well as the power to transform themselves into a wolf, a bat, or a cloud of mist. The most well-renowned legend, written by Bram Stoker, is that of Count Dracula, which is based on the Transylvanian prince Vlad Dracul…"

"Yes, Mr. Data," Picard interrupted. "But more importantly, in legend, anyone who is bitten by a vampire becomes one." He turned to Beverley. "Dr. Crusher, have there been any signs of such a transformation in Ensign Tirell?"

"No," Beverley replied. "I examined her as you requested and found no trace of any physiological changes. She appears human."

"Captain, remember that in the traditional legends, vampires do not allow their victims to live," Data said. "Ensign Tirell appears to have survived her experience with very little damage."

Picard steepled his fingers and rested his chin upon them. "Mr. Fitzroy did mention Bram Stoker. However, he did say that much of Stoker's information was incorrect."

"He's hardly likely to tell us the truth," Riker pointed out. "He has nothing to gain from it."

"Except our trust." Deanna Troi had been quiet for most of the meeting, but now she spoke. "What if he really does not intend to harm the crew? He seemed civilized when not provoked."

"Counselor," Geordi said incredulously, "he injured Worf _and_ Emma Tirell. He was probably going to feed on _you_."

"Do not forget the blood that Dr. Crusher found on his clothing when he first arrived," Worf said. "He may have killed many Ferengi."

Picard nodded. "I will begin reading Bram Stoker's _Dracula_. It may give us an idea of what we're dealing with. He also mentioned two other authors that might be of interest. Mr. Data, find out what you can. I will attempt to have another chat with Mr. Fitzroy."

"What are we going to feed him?" Beverley asked. "If the replicated blood doesn't work? We can't just let him starve!" Even to herself, her voice sounded faintly hysterical. She realized that Picard and the others were looking at her.

"I'm sorry," she said, forcing her voice to be calm. "But I'm having trouble reconciling the friendly charming boy who appeared in Sickbay a few days ago with your picture of a bloodthirsty monster."

Picard was staring at her with a strange expression. After a long moment, he looked away. "Geordi, see what you can do to improve the performance of the replicators. Commander Data, Commander Riker, remain. The rest of you are dismissed."

When the others had gone, Picard looked to Data. "In the legends, do vampires have a power to control the minds of humans?"

Data looked down as his neural processors sifted through the huge amount of information the android possessed. "Yes sir. In Bram Stoker's _Dracula,_ the vampire was able to induce a trance-like state in his victims and control their movements to a certain extent."

Riker looked at Picard. "You think that Dr. Crusher…"

Picard frowned. "I don't know Number One, but she seems a bit too attached to Mr. Fitzroy. It bears watching."

"Understood, Captain," Data said.

"Thank you. You are both dismissed." The two officers departed.

Picard leaned back in his chair. In his mind's eye, he could see Henry Fitzroy's matter-of-fact gaze and hear his voice.

 _"_ _I'm a vampire."_

Picard let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. A vampire. That was almost beyond imagining. Picard had discovered hundreds of worlds and observed cultures far different from his own, but this was…well, different. More so than usual, at least. Vampires were a human legend. No other culture, in all his years of travel, had ever told him of a similar myth.

 _And they existed on Earth long before the human race began to explore the stars._ If Henry Fitzroy was truly eight hundred years old… _The history he must have witnessed!_ Picard found himself dreaming of the sheer wealth of knowledge, the weight of experiences, that the vampire must possess. _To have seen so much._

Worf's voice cut through the haze of pleasure that was beginning to cloud Picard's head and brought him back to earth with a thud.

"Captain, a message from Starfleet."

"Patch it through to my ready room, Lieutenant," Picard said, startled.

There was a pause, and then a familiar face began to resolve on the communication screen perched on Picard's desk.

"Admiral Nura," Picard greeted. "This is somewhat unexpected."

The woman's green eyes narrowed. "Am I interrupting something, Captain?"

"No, no," Picard said hastily. "I am simply surprised that you have responded to my inquiries so quickly."

She did not look placated. "Indeed. I have investigated the matter we discussed. There has been no Starfleet-approved experimentation on vital organ failure. There is nothing that has moved past the research stage."

"I see," Picard said. _Henry's lie._

Admiral Nura peered at him. "As to the captive, Henry Fitzroy, we have discovered no current record of that name in any of our files. The only mention we could find is the long-dead bastard son of Henry VIII, but obviously that is of no help to us."

Picard fidgeted. "Actually, Admiral, we have reason to believe that that is _exactly_ who Mr. Fitzroy is."

She stared at him. "Explain."

There was no help for it. "We believe that Mr. Fitzroy is a…a vampire."

Her eyes narrowed. "What on earth are you talking about, Picard?"

He began to explain. He spoke for almost ten minutes. When he had finished, Admiral Nura took a deep breath and sat back.

"If it were anyone else, Jean-Luc, we'd be sending in a medical team. Vampires are a children's bedtime story."

"That's what I thought too, Admiral," Picard replied. "But several hundred years ago, mankind would have said the same thing about races dwelling among the stars. Is it so impossible that another species was flourishing just under our noses?"

"No, I suppose not," she answered slowly. "Does he still appear to be dangerous?"

"Dangerous?" Picard replied. "Certainly. But to us? I don't know. Counselor Troi doesn't think so."

"I am not interested in the opinion of Counselor Troi, fine woman as she undoubtedly is," Admiral Nura said. "I am interested in _your_ opinion.

"I would need to spend more time with Mr. Fitzroy," Picard answered, tugging down his uniform. "As of yet…"

"Have you any ideas of his powers?" Admiral Nura demanded.

"Again, I would need to spend more time with Henry," Picard repeated patiently. "Legends on vampires are somewhat vague."

"I would like you to transport the vampire to the Darwin Genetic Research Station on Gagarin IV. The scientists there will be best equipped to study this phenomenon."

Picard leaned forward with a frown. "This is not a lab rat we are discussing, Admiral. He forced his voice to remain calm. "He is a sentient being that deserves to be treated as such."

"Henry Fitzroy is a possible threat. By your own testimony, he killed many Ferengi. The Ferengi government…"

"There have been no formal charges against him." Despite his best efforts, his voice was beginning to rise. "His actions were in self-defense, in the face of captivity and possibly even torture!"

The admiral stiffened. "Do you have proof of this?"

"No," Picard admitted. "But I have talked with Mr. Fitzroy, and I believe that in this instance, he was telling the truth."

"He is not to be released, Captain," Admiral Nura said. "You may question him, but that is all. I will discuss this matter with the other members of Starfleet intelligence."

Picard opened his mouth to protest, but Admiral Nura interrupted. "Is that clear?"

"Yes," said Picard grudgingly.

The woman sat back. "Good. I trust that you will remember where your loyalties lie, Picard. Nura out."

The screen went blank.

* * *

It hadn't taken Data long to exhaust the ship computer's meager store of information on vampires. After all, it was not a subject generally required on a Federation starship. A human may have been occupied for a while, but an android… It was less than nothing.

 _"_ _Find out what you can,"_ Captain Picard had said.

It was that order that found Commander Data in the turbolift on his way to the brig. The android tugged on his uniform reflexively as the doors opened and he strode through. Though he could not become irritated at the fabric riding up on his synthetic skin, he had witnessed Captain Picard and the other officers do so many times, and he had concluded that such an action was only…human.

Henry was waiting for him. The vampire wore newly-replicated clothes: a pair of tight black pants and a red silk shirt. Data considered them for a moment. The style was reminiscent of the apparel preferred at the beginning of the twenty-first century. The vampire stood at the forcefield barrier, his hazel eyes alert.

"Commander Data," he said smoothly. "A pleasure."

Data stopped a few feet from the barrier. "Good afternoon, Mr. Fitzroy. Are you reasonably comfortable?"

Henry smiled bitterly. "As comfortable as may be. It seems I have exchanged one prison for another."

"You are being held while we determine if you are a threat to the ship and its crew," Data replied. "You must admit that your actions in Ten Forward do not predispose the captain to give you the benefit of the doubt."

"I suppose not." The vampire gazed at him curiously, with eyes that were altogether inhuman. "Why are you here, Commander?"

"I am here to ascertain the reliability of the legends," Data said. "Our computers have very little information on vampires."

"I suggested a few historians to the captain the last time we talked," Henry replied. "Have you read their works?"

Data inclined his head. "I have, but the reports are somewhat contradictory. There is nothing concrete to indicate the full extent of your powers and limitations."

"We have made it a practice to allow no one to know of our kind," Henry said. "Mobs with stakes and torches are too much of our history."

"But why not reveal yourselves now?" Data asked. "The Federation is tolerant of all sentient life forms."

Henry glanced around, his gaze lingering on the walls of the cell. "Very tolerant."

"You are not imprisoned for your species, Mr. Fitzroy," Data reminded him. "Will you answer my questions?"

Henry's mouth twitched in a hint of a smile. "You are rather remarkable, Data. I have never met a machine who so closely resembled a human. Nor a machine who was so clearly not one."

"That statement is contradictory," Data said.

"To a vampire, it's not." Henry's nostrils flared. "When you entered the room, I could immediately tell who it was, before I saw you or heard your voice. You don't _smell_ human."

"As you said, I am not human," Data said. "Are your other senses also enhanced?"

The vampire nodded. "I am also strong, stronger maybe even than you." He lightly brushed the forcefield with his fingers. "Ten Forward was just an example."

"You also moved with extraordinary swiftness," Data said. "I confess I am at a loss to explain the source of these enhancements."

Henry laughed. "Ah, it is the fault of our science that it wants to explain all; and if it explains not, then it says there is nothing to explain."

Data cocked his head. "Bram Stoker. Fascinating. Then you yourself have no explanation for your abilities?"

"I know this," Henry said. "I began human. Now I'm not; I'm something entirely different. Something immortal."

"You began as a human?" Data asked.

Henry looked puzzled. "That is a fact on which all the legends agree. I became a vampire when I was seventeen."

"I wished to hear confirmation from you."

"You sound like your captain," Henry said wryly.

"Thank you. I will take that as a compliment. What of other abilities?"

"Like the power to shapeshift and become mist?" Henry asked. His tone was scornful. He gestured around at his cell. "Does it look like I can become mist?"

"The forcefield prevents any material from leaving the cell," Data said. "So your continued presence proves nothing of your abilities."

"No, I can't become mist," Henry said, as though speaking to a small child. "Or change shape."

"Do you have the ability to mesmerize other life forms?" Data asked.

"No."

Although Data suspected that this was not the truth, something about Henry's tone warned the android he would get no more answers. "Thank you for your time." Data began to turn away, then stopped. "If I may ask, why did you choose to give up your humanity?"

Henry was silent for a long time. "Love," he answered finally.

"I do not understand," Data said.

Henry smiled. His eyes were suddenly bottomless, world-weary and old. "It's a human concept," he said softly.


	9. Chapter 9

Hours later, the turbolift hissed again as it discharged another visitor. Deanna Troi stepped timidly out of the lift and took a few steps towards Henry's cell.

"Henry?" There was no answer.

Deanna took a deep breath, fists clenching in a effort to release her tension. In the end, she was forced to use one of her own councilor's tricks to still her racing heart. _He knows I'm here._ Only when her breathing had calmed and she felt in control again did she approach the cell itself and look in.

Henry lay on the small cot, fast asleep. His red-brown hair pillowed his head like a mane, or a halo. He looked so helpless, so young, that Deanna felt her heart clench. The corners of his mouth were drawn downwards in a tiny frown. His face was very pale.

 _Does he dream?_ Deanna wondered, placing her hand flat against the forcefield.

With a sigh, she turned and departed, casting one more glance over her shoulder at the sleeping vampire. The turbolift's doors hissed to signal her departure.

When she was gone, Henry's eyes blinked slowly open. He sighed, a heartfelt sigh, and sat up. For the first time in a long while, he felt his age. Passing his hand briefly before his eyes, he looked in the direction Deanna had gone.

At that moment, his emotions were in such a turmoil that he doubted even Deanna Troi herself would have been able to tell what he was feeling.

* * *

"Report, Commander Data."

"Yes sir," the android said, standing up and moving to the head of the table. "I have scanned the works of the three authors Mr. Fitzroy mentioned. There are few concrete facts about vampires that they all agree on."

Riker snorted. "Concrete facts? We're talking about a fairytale."

Picard leaned forward. "Will, a few centuries ago, the very idea of life on other planets was little more than a fairytale. Our duty is to discover the truth that lies _behind_ the stories. Continue, Mr. Data."

The android nodded. "Yes sir. Based on my study of the three authors, cross-referenced with the limited material in the _Enterprise_ 's computer, I have concluded that sunlight is the only consistently recognized weakness."

Riker rolled his eyes. "I could find that out by watching old holovids."

Data continued as though Riker had not spoken. "In the cases of Tanya Huff and Anne Rice, the daylight hours seem to put vampires into a short-term coma. For Bram Stoker's Dracula, although this phenomenon did not occur, sunlight still curtailed his powers. I have discovered no scientific explanation." This time, Riker did not comment. Data looked at Picard. "I believe that we may rule out the idea that vampires must travel in boxes filled with grave dirt, as this would make it impossible for Mr. Fitzroy to avoid detection on a starship."

"I agree. What can you tell us of your encounter with Mr. Fitzroy?"

When Data had finished his story, Picard sat back in his chair. "I face a difficult problem here," he said. "I have just received definite orders from Starfleet Command. Admiral Nura wishes us to transport Mr. Fitzroy to the Darwin Genetic Research Station on Gargarin IV. She wishes the scientists there to…study him."

"What is the basis for this decision?" Deanna demanded.

Picard looked at her. "She believes that Henry and his kind pose a possible threat to the Federation. She wishes to study him and find a way to neutralize that threat."

"While I do agree that he is dangerous," Worf interjected, "he should be placed under guard because of the danger to the _crew_ , not on the basis of his species." The burly Klingon looked angry.

"That is against everything the Federation stands for!" Riker added. "As much as I may not _trust_ Mr. Fitzroy, he certainly deserves to be treated as a member of a sentient species."

"I agree, Number One," Picard said. "But I fear that the admiral may not listen to reason. I will speak with Mr. Fitzroy again," he added, standing up and straightening his uniform. "Perhaps he will shed some light on this matter."

As they were leaving, Geordi smiled and tried to lighten the mood. "Look on the bright side, Captain. Think of the things he must have seen! You could learn more from Mr. Fitzroy than all the history books combined."

"You don't have to tell that to me, Mr. LaForge," Picard said. _It's part of what makes him so fascinating._

* * *

"So the gallant captain returns."

Henry sat against the far wall of his cell, knees tucked up to his chest and arms clasped loosely around them. His hair was tousled, and his eyes were pitch-black. But his smile had the same familiar twist.

"Good evening, Mr. Fitzroy," Picard said, drawing up a small stool in front of the glittering forcefield.

Henry's smile faded, and he looked at Picard thoughtfully. "Is it evening? I can never tell in space."

"So the daylight hours have no effect on you?" Picard asked curiously.

Henry chuckled, and the sound chilled Picard to the bone. It sounded old and powerful and anything but human. It was all vampire.

"I thought I told you I was tired of your questions," he purred, so low that Picard had to strain to hear it. "Set me free or go away."

"And as promised, I asked no more questions of you then," Picard answered. "But I also told you that I wanted to learn more about you." For a moment, he thought Henry wouldn't answer. Then…

"Not in space. There's no sunlight in space." If it was possible for black eyes to glitter, Henry's eyes were doing it now. "And now a question for you, Captain," he said. "Do you gain pleasure by starving me?"

Picard started. "Starving you? No!"

"Then do you intend to use it to force me into submission?"

"It is not our intent…"

Henry spread his hands. "I need blood, Picard. I need to feed." In a movement faster than Picard could follow, he sprang to his feet and stood pressed up against the forcefield, body tensed and fists clenched. "I can smell your blood, Picard," he said, his eyes falling on Picard's throat. "I can hear your heartbeat. I can see the veins pressing out against your skin." He raised his eyes to meet Picard's. "Do you…have any idea how…tantalizing that is?"

His eyes were endless, darkened pits. He smiled, and Picard could see a glimpse of fangs. When he spoke, his voice resonated with power.

 ** _Give me blood, Picard._**

Picard felt an extraordinary force pressing down on him. Suddenly, he wanted to leap to the control panel on the side of the cell, key in a few numbers, and then…He wanted to let Henry drink from him, drain him dry. He would be happy if he did so, he realized dizzily. The last thing he would see would be the approval in those pitch-black eyes.

Never since the Borg had he felt a call so strong. And that thought alone was enough to pull him back. He reeled backwards, wrenching his gaze away from Henry's face, desperately trying to close his mind to the command still echoing in his head.

 ** _Give me blood._**

Picard felt the compulsion fading, accompanied by a feeling of guilt. _I was so close to giving in_. That thought bred anger. _How dare he try to manipulate me!_

He looked back at Henry, eyes narrowed and lips pursed, only to find the vampire watching him with frank curiosity and a little apprehension. The blackness in his eyes had receded a little.

"Well," the vampire said into the silence. "It seems we have underestimated each other, Picard. He took a step back, his hands open at his sides. "Find me something to eat and we shall talk."

* * *

Henry talked for most of the night. Sipping occasionally from a cup of blood gathered from stores in Sickbay, he told Picard a little of his own history. He spoke so casually of historic events that despite himself, Picard felt a little overwhelmed. When the vampire had finished telling the story of his short tenure as a human, he started to speak about the worlds he had traveled in over eight hundred years of living.

"Have you ever shared your secret with a human before?" Picard asked after a few hours of listening raptly to Henry's stories.

"About once a century, I find someone who can accept me for what I am," Henry answered. He sounded slightly sad. "I crave companionship, Picard, the same as any other creature. Vampires are highly territorial; we can't get along for any extended period of time. So I turn to humans."

He shook his head, as though he could shake off a cloud of gloom. "But enough about me," he said with a slight smile. "Fair's fair. Tell me about yourself." He shifted on the floor of the tiny cell so that he was comfortably situated, then looked at Picard expectantly.

"Well," Picard began awkwardly, "I grew up in France…"

Before either of them had noticed, six hours had passed. What eventually wrecked their concentration was the sound of footsteps behind them. Dr. Crusher came into view, carrying another mug of blood. She stopped when she saw Picard.

"Jean- Luc," she said. "I was just…" She trailed off.

"Come in, Beverly," Picard said, motioning her over. He fixed Henry with an intense stare.

"Dr. Crusher's presence here has reminded me of an important question I need you to answer. Tell me the truth, Mr. Fitzroy," he said, using Henry's surname for the first time in hours. "Did you mesmerize Dr. Crusher?"

"Now Jean-Luc, that's ridiculous," Beverly began, but Henry interrupted her with a raised hand. The answer was in his eyes.

Without prompting, he turned to Beverly. **_"I release you from the compulsion to aid me."_** His voice returned to human normal. "Fly away, little bird," he said under his breath.

Beverly shook her head as though to clear it, and staggered back a step. When she finally had recovered herself, her eyes met Henry's. For a moment, she stood unmoving, face tight and angry. Then, without a word, she turned and stomped off, her footsteps clanging loudly on the metal floor. Both Picard and Henry winced.

"I guess she's not a "once in a century" kind of girl," Henry whispered.

"Give her some time. She's just discovered that you were controlling her actions." He stared at Henry, eyes slightly narrowed. "Humans don't like to be controlled."

"I know," Henry said quietly. "I have more knowledge than I know what to do with, but I'm afraid that eight hundred years hasn't always been enough to teach me wisdom." He sighed. "Sometimes, I think you humans are the lucky ones. You only have one chance to get it right, but you make that chance count."

He looked up at Picard. "What are you going to do with me, Captain?" he asked, sounding slightly tired.

Picard cleared his throat. "Starfleet wishes me to transport you to the Darwin Genetic Research Station for…study."

Henry stiffened. "I don't want to spend all of eternity on a lab table," he said flatly. "Any more than I want to be catapulted into a sun. Kill me outright or let me go."

Picard's reply was cut off by the wailing of sirens. The captain leapt to his feet and started towards the turbolift.

"Riker to Picard."

"Go ahead, Number One."

"Two vessels have just materialized off our port bow. One of them is Ferengi. The other seems to be some kind of smuggler's rig."

Picard glanced back at Henry. The vampire too was on his feet, body rigid. Henry met Picard's eyes, face blank, but Picard could sense the anger underneath the smooth mask.

"Well," the vampire said tightly, "I suppose there's always option three."


	10. Chapter 10

"Raise shiel…" Picard shouted, charging towards the turbolift, but before he could complete his sentence, there was a sound of an explosion. The _Enterprise_ 's deck rocked wildly beneath his feet. He lost his balance and had to catch himself against the wall of the lift. Geordi LaForge's voice echoed over the sirens.

"Captain, they just took out our main deflector dish. Shields down to 10%!"

The lift shot upwards towards the bridge. Picard quickly ran through his options. There weren't many.

"Open a channel to the Ferengi vessel," he ordered Worf. "Prepare for evasive maneuvers. I want options if this goes wrong."

The monitor flickered, and the wrinkled, smirking face of DaiMon Torek appeared.

"Why Captain Picard," he said with mock surprise. "What a coincidence that we should have the pleasure of meeting you again."

Picard was in no mood to play games. "Why have you fired on my ship, DaiMon?" he demanded.

The Ferengi's smug grin widened. "We came to collect our property, Picard. Give us the vampire, and no one needs to get hurt."

"You realize that by firing on a Federation vessel, you have committed an act of war?" Picard asked, keeping his anger firmly under control.

DaiMon Torek shrugged, but Picard could see the nervousness in the gesture. "If this is what we can expect to encounter from the Federation, they will not pose much of a threat."

"Where does this newfound courage come from, DaiMon?" Picard asked. "Surely you are not so blinded by greed that you fail to realize the seriousness of your situation?"

The Ferengi's smirk faded. "You have not yet answered our demands, hu-man," he snarled. "Give us the vampire, or be destroyed!"

"Let me handle this, DaiMon," another voice interrupted. The screen split in two as a new face appeared on the other half. It was the face of a human man in his late thirties, with sleek, well-oiled black hair and small, snakelike eyes. When he smiled, Picard could almost hear a hiss.

"You and I are both reasonable men, Captain Picard," the man said calmly, ignoring the Ferengi's continued temper tantrum. "You realize that _we_ have the upper hand."

"And who are you?" Picard demanded.

"Pardon my lack of manners," the man said smoothly. "I am Captain Oneida, of the starship _Basilisk._ " He smiled wider, and Picard had a brief pang of nausea. "Now," he continued, his smile disappearing as though struck by lightning and his eyes growing cold. "Back to business. You have something we want, we have something you want. Life."

"And if I should refuse to give up Mr. Fitzroy?" Picard asked.

"Then you shall all die," Oneida said easily. "Surely the price of one vampire is nothing compared to the lives of your crew, Captain?"

"Why should I trust you?"

"You don't have a choice, Picard," Oneida said. "Give us the vampire or die. You have five minutes to decide." The screen went blank.

"Both vessels are armed and ready to fire," Data reported from the helm. "As we are, Captain, we can not hope to survive an attack."

"I am aware of that, Mr. Data." Picard thought for a moment. "Mr. Worf, would it be possible to reconfigure the phaser banks to target the weapons systems of both ships simultaneously?"

"Yes, Captain," Worf said slowly. "But it would take time."

"How long?"

"Perhaps fifteen minutes."

"Time we don't have," Picard muttered. He turned to Riker. "We need to stall them."

"Three minutes, thirty seconds remaining," Data said.

"Whatever we plan to do, we have to do it fast," Riker said.

Picard nodded. "Begin reconfiguring the phasers, Lieutenant Worf. Commander Data, try and find some way to mask what we're doing from the Ferengi." He tugged down his uniform. "In the meantime, hail the Ferengi vessel."

"What do you plan to do?" Riker asked.

Picard glanced at him. "We'll give them what they want."

* * *

"I knew you were a reasonable man, Picard." Captain Oneida said with a smug smile. On the other side of the screen, DaiMon Torek was rubbing his stumpy hands together greedily.

Picard nodded. "I'm simply trying to protect my people."

"Of course."

Picard rubbed his chin with one hand. "One thing concerns me. How do you intend to take possession of the vampire?"

"We will lock onto his coordinates and beam him directly to our ship," DaiMon Torek interjected.

For the first time, a smile ghosted across Picard's face. "I don't think so. If you had the ability to do that, you would have beamed him off at once." He met Oneida's eyes. "The detention level is shielded independently. With the shields still in place, you can't beam anything on or off that level."

Oneida's smile didn't fade. "Then you will drag the vampire into the turbolift and proceed to a level that is not affected by the shielding."

"That will take time," Picard said. "Trying to force a vampire where he does not wish to go is very difficult, as I'm sure you know."

"Oh, it's not difficult at all," Captain Oneida said. "Simply stun the creature."

Picard bristled. "I will beam Henry Fitzroy to your ship, along with a full security team to keep him under control. I will not harm him for your _convenience._ "

"You are in no position…" DaiMon Torek began, but Captain Oneida waved him into silence. "Very well, Picard, but _you_ must accompany this escort. To prevent…misdealings."

Picard inclined his head. "Very well. We will send you our coordinates when we are in position."

"Don't take too long," Oneida warned. "DaiMon Torek has an itchy trigger finger." The screen went blank.

"Captain, are you insane?" Riker demanded the moment Captain Oneida's face had disappeared from view. "You are giving them another hostage!"

"I am aware of that, Number One, but I needed a way to keep Henry conscious when he sets foot on that ship." He turned and strode towards the turbolift. "I will need a full security team to assemble on the detention level, immediately."

The doors hissed shut behind him. And Picard prayed silently that he had not just made the biggest mistake of his career.

* * *

The team had already assembled outside Henry's cell when Picard emerged onto the detention level. Henry stood in the far corner of the cell, half-crouched, fangs bared. The team eyed him nervously.

Picard didn't have time to waste on hesitation. He strode right up to the forcefield.

"Henry, listen closely." The vampire's eyes slid upwards to his face. "Captain Oneida has given us only minutes to beam you aboard his vessel." Henry growled, but did not interrupt. "I have managed to convince him to allow us to accompany you." He gestured at the security team. "Though we will carry weapons, in all likelihood, we will not have the opportunity to use them."

Henry still remained silent. Picard continued, despite the lack of a response. "In less than fifteen minutes, we will be able to disable their weapon systems. Fifteen minutes, that's all I need."

Henry said nothing. Picard pressed one hand flat against the forcefield, willing the vampire to listen. "Trust me."

Henry hesitated for a moment longer, then crossed the cell and placed his hand flat against the forcefield opposite Picard's.

Picard breathed a sigh of relief. "Open the cell," he ordered. One of the security team pressed a few buttons, and the forcefield hissed as it was deactivated. Henry stood quietly as two members of the team fitted energy cuffs around his wrists. His eyes never left Picard's.

Commander Riker's voice cut through the detention level. "Captain, the Ferengi are getting impatient."

"We're on our way." Picard stared into Henry's eyes. Then without another word, he headed for the turbolift.

He breathed another private sigh of relief when the vampire followed him without complaint.

* * *

"You'd better hope this works," Riker's voice said as Picard and the team assembled on an upper deck with Henry in the center. The vampire was still behaving, but Picard could see a rigidity in his movements that betrayed his tension. He was like a spring ready to unwind, or a bomb waiting to detonate.

"Energize!"

As the transporter beam caught hold of him, Picard was horrified to see that the shapes of the security team remained solid. He looked at Henry; the vampire was dissolving into beads of light.

 _Just us then,_ Picard thought. _I should have known Oneida wouldn't play by the rules._

Then his boots were striking metal flooring. He kept his phaser out, trained on Henry. As soon as he solidified, the vampire sagged slightly against Picard as though stunned, keeping the phaser hidden from view.

"See, Captain, handling a vampire isn't so difficult after all." Picard looked up to see Captain Oneida flanked by a pair of heavily armed smugglers. Picard looked around. They were on the smuggler's ship. _Why not the Ferengi vessel?_

As if on cue, DaiMon Torek's sharp, irritating voice cut through the air.

"Oneida, we agreed to bring them to _my_ ship! How dare you break your side of the bargain!"

"I'm tired of your yammering, DaiMon," Oneida said in a bored voice, keeping his phaser trained on Picard and Henry. "I'm cutting you out of the deal."

The Ferengi's angry, horrified protests were cut off by the sound of laser fire.

"Captain," one of the smugglers reported. "The Ferengi vessel has been destroyed."

"The _Enterprise_ 's reaction?"

The smuggler grinned. "They haven't moved."

Oneida let out a bark of laughter. "Guess they're afraid to fire on us, what with you so conveniently on board, Picard." He gestured with his phaser. "Slide your weapon to me, carefully."

When Picard did not move, Oneida let out a short controlled burst from the phaser. It struck Henry in the chest. The vampire grunted with pain and doubled over slightly. Oneida's thumb toggled a switch on the phaser.

"Next one is set to disintegrate." He stared at Picard. "Now."

Moving slowly, Picard set his phaser down on the floor and slid it towards Oneida with his boot. As Oneida picked it up, keeping both his eyes on his prisoners, Henry let out a low snarl. Picard followed the vampire's eyes to Oneida's belt. There, hanging in an ornate sheathe chased with gold, was a sword. The hilt was studded with jewels, while the grip itself was made with the finest leather.

Oneida followed Henry's gaze. "Do you like it, vampire?" he asked with a laugh. "I could probably sell it for a fortune on the black market, but I like it. It reminds everyone that I'm a king." He patted the handle fondly. For a moment, his eyes drifted away from Henry and Picard, moving to the gleaming sword.

It was in that moment that Henry struck. Twisting the cuffs in the manner Picard had shown him to snap them off, he sprang. His speed was incredible. Before the others could even blink, he had snapped the neck of the first smuggler to cross his path, heading straight for Oneida. The second smuggler got in the way, raising his phaser, but Henry punched directly through his chest.

It was only a second's delay. But it was enough. A golden beam shot from the nozzle of Oneida's weapon. Henry cowered, shielding his face with his hands. Even as he scrambled backwards along the floor, trying desperately to escape the light, his movements became slower.

Oneida smirked. "UV light, vampire," he said. "We rigged it up special, just for you. It can make you fall asleep or…" He toggled the switch again. "It can cause you agonizing pain." Henry screamed, frozen in place by the strength of the beam. As Picard watched, the skin began to crackle and hiss.

"I won't kill you, vampire," Oneida said, smiling as Henry writhed on the floor. "But I'll make you wish I had."

Forgotten, Picard began to inch towards the smuggler. His phaser was in Oneida's belt, so he would have to find another weapon. His eyes fell on a piece of metal pipe. Carefully, he eased it off the pile and crept towards Oneida.

Oneida whirled around. He raised the phaser, thumbing the switch to change it to an ordinary phaser beam. Picard had nowhere to run. In seconds, his body would be just another layer of grime coating the floor of the smuggler's ship.

What Picard learned that day, a lesson he would carry with him for the rest of his life, is that a few seconds is a _very_ long time.

A few seconds was all the time it took for Henry to surge upward from the floor, teeth bared in a terrifying snarl. And a few seconds was all it took for the vampire to reach out and tear Oneida's head from his shoulders. Blood spurted from the smuggler's neck as his body collapsed. It sprayed Henry's face, soaking his hair and clothes.

For a long moment, Picard and Henry were silent, staring at each other. With a distracted air, Henry licked the blood away from his mouth and wiped the rest of the gore on his sleeve. He wrung his blood-soaked hair between his fingers, letting droplets of Oneida's blood spatter to the deck. His eyes did not stray from Picard's face.

The question in them was clear. _What now?_

 _What now indeed?_ Picard wondered. Henry stood before him, still soaked in blood, despite his ministrations. Three men lay dead at the vampire's feet. But looking at Henry's burned and blackened face, Picard recalled Oneida's gleeful expression as he had watched the vampire writhe in pain.

 _"_ _I won't kill you,"_ he had said, _"But I'll make you wish I had."_

Another voice rang out in Picard's head. This time, it was the voice of Admiral Nura. _"I would like you to transport the vampire to the Darwin Genetic Research Center."_

Picard wavered. Was he really considering disobeying an order from Starfleet Command?

Henry tensed. In spite of himself, Picard felt his stomach clench with fear, and his gaze fell on the modified phaser, lying only a few inches away from Oneida's mangled corpse. But he forced his eyes to return to Henry's face. The vampire looked exhausted and hurt, but ready to fight if necessary. He was only waiting for Picard's answer.

 _What now?_

Looking at the vampire, Picard made up his mind. He tapped his comlink. "Picard to Commander Riker."

Riker's voice cracked over the comlink, sounding relieved. "Captain, are you alright?"

"Yes, Number One." Picard stared at Henry. "Oneida is dead, and the Ferengi ship is destroyed. I see no reason to linger, do you?"

"And Mr. Fitzroy?" Riker's voice sounded tense.

Picard hesitated for a moment. "Dead," he said at last. Henry's eyes widened, and he started.

There was a pause. "What are your orders, sir?"

"Prepare to beam me back to the _Enterprise_ ," Picard ordered.

"Acknowledged."

The last thing Picard saw as the transporter beam pulled him away was Henry's smile.


	11. Epilogue

"He is not really dead, is he, Captain?"

Picard glanced over at Deanna Troi, who stood beside him, staring out at the stars moving by the _Enterprise._ He hesitated for a moment, then smiled.

"Am I really that transparent?" he asked.

"Not to someone who doesn't know you as well as I do," she said. "I understand why you wanted to keep it hidden."

His smile faded. "I couldn't let Starfleet treat him like a scientific curiosity. Whatever Mr. Fitzroy may have done…he doesn't deserve that."

She smiled. "I understand." Her smile widened, becoming even more beautiful than before. "Thank you."

He shuffled his feet, slightly embarrassed. "It was the right thing to do."

She put her hand on his shoulder. "Sometimes, doing the right thing can be the hardest course of all." She turned and padded away from him, towards the door. At the doorway, she stopped.

"You are a good man, Captain."

Before Picard could formulate a reply to that, she was gone. He stood there for a while longer, staring out at the stars.

* * *

With a whirring and a pneumatic hiss, the _Enterprise_ slid into its docking space at Starbase 439. The giant ship was as graceful as a swan in the hands of its helmsmen, and Picard couldn't help but smile at the beauty of it. He turned to Riker.

"We will be staying at the base for a few days," he said. "Inform the crew that they are welcome to leave the ship during that time." He smiled. "I understand that Starbase 439 has managed to brew some fairly spectacular ale."

"Thank you, Captain." In the week since Henry Fitzroy's "death," the young commander had become morose, haunted by the specter of the one they failed to save. Looking at him, Picard felt a pang of regret for lying to him.

 _I will tell him,_ he thought, _after Henry has had a few months to disappear. For now, it's better that everyone, including Riker, believe Mr. Fitzroy to be dead._

An image of the vampire… _persuading_ the remaining smugglers to fly him to safety made the corners of Picard's mouth twitch. The _Basilisk_ had wasted no time in departing. Perhaps Henry was afraid Picard would change his mind.

With a sigh, Picard returned his gaze to the starbase outside the viewscreen.

* * *

"Captain Jean-Luc Picard?"

Picard turned, startled. He did not recognize the young woman hurrying towards him down the hallway, her upper body half obscured by a long package that she carried in her arms.

"Yes?" He stopped and waited for her to catch up.

"We have a package here for you, Captain," she said, holding out the package to him. "It was delivered to the starbase a few days ago."

He took it. It was lighter than he had expected. "Who is it from?" he asked in surprise.

She shrugged. "I'm just in charge of delivering it."

Picard bit back a host of other questions and simply nodded instead. "Thank you."

She nodded a farewell and set off down the hallway, already concentrating on her next assignment.

Picard found a deserted room and knelt on the floor to slit open the package's top. There was no note. Instead, there was only a thick layer of insulation. Whatever the package contained, the sender did not want to risk damaging it. Cautiously, Picard reached down into the box, his fingers closing on something hard and smooth. He drew it out.

It was a sword. The scabbard was ornate, chased with gold worked into elegant designs. The jewel-studded hilt glinted at him from above a finely- worked leather grip. Picard drew in a deep, startled breath. He recognized the sword, had seen it only a week before.

It was the sword of King Henry VIII.


End file.
